Whiskey Winged Blues
by Narikokaida
Summary: A follow up to "A work of Art" From Deans POV. Castiel hasn't shown up in days and Dean is Pissed. Rated T for language


Dean was….

Dean was…

Dean was so God damn confused he wanted to beat his head off the wall. Repeatedly. When he was done with that he might just jump off a freakin' bridge for kicks. This was just…just

It was fucked up that's what it was.

It had been days, _days_, since he'd seen Cas. The holy god damn pigeon had violated him and then left him like a fat chick on a drunken one night stand. And he hadn't come _back._ Dean was _not _going to get left like that. He did not get _left _he was the one that did the leaving. And why the hell was he even thinking like that?!

Fighting back a snarl he flipped on the TV to Busty Asian Beauties hoping to stop the stress headache that had been constant for the last freaking week. The woman on the screen was in fact Busty Asian and gorgeous but for the life of him he couldn't get his mind off the feathered bastard that had…had….

Giving up and snarling he whipped the remote at the TV leaving a very large crack right down the middle. While normally the sight of double the breasts for half the money would have been great in a normal circumstance, now it just made the chick looked cross eyed and it was not doing a damn thing for him.

"Son of a _bitch_." He hissed dropping his head to his hands with a wince. God he hurt all over. Now what the hell was he going to do? Nothing was open in this podunk town of course not much was open in any town at 4 in the morning but there was normally at least one bar. The bible belt was such a pain in the ass sometimes. No bars no strip clubs, no distractions to keep his mind off the fact that he hadn't slept in two days. Even the job he'd come here to do had been completed, though he did have a nasty ass cut running from hip to hip as a going away present. Damn ghoul had nearly eviscerated him. The pain was currently being muted by his own form of sedatives, but it wasn't what kept him awake.

Every time he closed his eyes Alistair's face swam before him. His maniacal laughter piercing his eardrums, the constant humming that was like a fucking lullaby into nightmare land and memories of pain as he was torn to shreds again and again made his heart pound and panic swim through him. And to top it off it was never the bright and cheery pediatrician he'd snagged from god knows where that Dean saw. No, in his mind he saw-.

Gritting his teeth he took the last swig of whiskey making a face at the slow burn as it rolled down his throat. With a sigh he dropped the bottle on the floor with and stared at the flickering TV screen. God the things he saw. Horrible things that 'nightmare' didn't even cover. Ever since Sammy had left everything had just gotten worse. Not of course that he needed Sammy. It was just that when it rains it definitely poured. That might as well have been the Winchester freaking motto. And he was so damn tired.

A crack of thunder made him jump and he swore violently getting to his feet with only the slightest of sways to turn off the jumbled screen. The heel of his hand found his way to his eyes as he rubbed them hard. The floor seemed to tumble under his feet at that and with a groan he reached out to steady himself. It wasn't just the floor rolling this time his stomach was taking a turn for the worse. Frowning he gazed at the empty bottle, well bottles on the floor beside him. Shit, he hadn't thought he'd drank that much. The Jack in his stomach was very vocally telling him his assumptions were wrong. Swallowing hard he stumbled towards the bed a hand to his stomach. He would not be sick. Not when the nightmares still hovered on his consciousness. If they faded, praying to the porcelain god was a price to pay but not tonight.

He flopped on the bed too tired to undress and buried his head in the pillow as unhappy liquid sloshed in his stomach. That mixed with was undoubtedly stitches tearing sent a wave of unhappy thoughts through his body. Shit he'd forgotten all about it. Grinding his teeth and counting to ten he fought his way around the nausea, it wasn't the first time but damn it he wasn't drunk enough for this shit. He was _not _going to be sick. Rolling carefully he made it to his back flinching as the hand on his stomach came away spotted with red. Frankly he was too damn tired to worry about bleeding to death. It was why he'd worn black, no stains no problem. With a sigh he stared at the ceiling which was swirling in a way that made it look remarkably like wings.

Snorting quietly Dean shut his eyes and tried very hard to not think of the way Cas's mouth had felt against his or the way he tasted like honey. Especially though he tried not to think of the way his touch had felt like a warm jacket on a cold day. That despite himself he'd felt the goose bumps rise on his flesh and had wanted _more. _

He liked women. No he _loved_ women but Castiel wasn't normal. He was naïve and innocent in all the places Dean had been jaded. He had faith, honest to God faith in him saving the world, when Dean still wasn't sure if he could save himself. And then there was the whole pulling him out of hell thing. Christ Sammy would have field day with all that identifying with your savior crap. A wave of loneliness came from nowhere before he could squash it down. He was just fine on his own. Gritting his teeth he pushed himself into a seating position his hand pressing down firmly on his abdomen as he reached for the last bottle hidden under the bed. Using the floor as leverage he twisted the cap off and was just about to take a long drink when the voice came out of nowhere.

"Dean." It sounded reproving, it sounded annoyed, and it scared the freaking shit out of him. Choking on the fiery stuff of death he gasped for air wincing at the pull in his stomach. When he could talk without the fear of heaving all over the bed, he raised his eyes to the angel currently sitting on the foot of the bed gazing at him with what looked like worry.

"'The hell have you been?" he snapped abandoning the bottle on the nightstand. Castiel watched it with a frown.

"I was looking-."

"For god yeah I know." Dean muttered wondering if maybe he shouldn't have been so quick to give up the whiskey. Conversations with Cas tended to make his head spin. Though if his head spun anymore it might fly off. Fighting the rising bile in the back of his throat he swallowed and shifted to a more comfortable position. "Didja find him?" he drawled rubbing a hand over his eyes. Castiel stayed silent. 'guess that's a no.' Dean thought dryly as he raked his eyes over the angel who looked as pristine as the first day they'd met. Which was when he brain caught up to who was sitting there. Lowering his hand he debated briefly on staring down the angel. It wouldn't work. Cas could probably stare at him for all eternity without blinking. Fucking super angel powers.

"You want to explain what the fuck is going on with you?" The angel did that damn head cocking thing. Like a freaking Boston Terrier and a bone. It was so damn cute you just wanted to reach out and-.

Dean shook his head violently then fought back a moan as his stomach threatened to rebel. Head in hands he took a few shallow breaths. What the hell was wrong with him? Thoughts like that were….were… not good. Though maybe, he thought carefully raising his eyes to the angel who had, surprise, not blinked once, what was wrong with him came from the other side of the deck.

"Are you drunk?" Castiel asked slowly completely avoiding the question which pissed Dean off.

"Never drunk enough for this conversation. .question." he ground out through his teeth which were currently the only thing preventing him from being sick all over the angel. Castiel regarded him for a moment then his eyes darted away. For a second Dean could have sworn he saw a blush rise on his cheeks. Finally he shrugged as he studiously surveyed the tattered motel room that just blended into the hundreds of others Dean had stayed at.

"I was under the impression that that was what human's did to express affection." He answered calmly still looking anywhere but Dean.

"Dude, a nice manly handshake would have done." He mumbled and tried to ignore the pounding in his chest. Jesus, what was wrong with him?

"Friends give handshakes," observed Castiel as he took in the ceiling, "And you are not a friend." And wasn't that just a kick in the gut. Dean leaned back slowly trying to tell the feeling of hurt that it was ridiculous to be upset about this. He was an angel for god sake. He should never have expected much. That little speech about telling him anything was a load of crap too apparently. It didn't hurt. Nope not at all, which was why his stomach was twisting in yet another wave of agony. Licking his lips Dean shut his eyes with a shiver. He was going to be sick.

A hand touched his face, warm and calloused which seemed wrong for someone who could heal himself instantly. Fighting the urge to lean into the touch that seemed to take some of the ever building migraine Dean opened his eyes slowly. Castiel was looking at him a small frown twisting the corner of his mouth down. "I don't know what you are, but you are not a friend, you are something….more." Well, that was surprising. Staring at the angel Dean wasn't sure what he had to say to that, but something more urgent took over.

"Hold that thought." He muttered gathering strength from the depths of himself in his mad sprint to the bathroom. He made it just barely and when he did he wished he would have let the damn ghoul eat him. It _hurt. _It was bad enough to make him shake as he emptied two bottles of Tennessee's finest into the toilet. He heard the footsteps coming towards him which was definitely a first. He risked a glance out of the bowl for a second and sure enough the angel was watching him in apprehension. Which was all he saw before he was otherwise occupied.

The warm hand on his neck was definitely holy work as it made its way down his back in slow circles. Truly heavenly. Fighting back the smile at his own wit, Dean leaned back giving up on grace as he landed on his ass with a thud. Wiping his mouth he leaned back into Castiel's hand not caring what the hell he thought about it at the moment. The pounding in his head took a back seat to the burn under his shirt. He didn't need to see it to know that he was bleeding like a stuck pig. He lifted his shirt anyway and flinched as dried blood caught on fabric.

"Damn it." He muttered seeing not one, not two but three stitches missing from the center of the gash. It had hurt to put those babies in.

"You are injured." Cas sounded rather put off by that. Dean frowned leaning his head back to get a better look at him. He was glaring at the bleeding wound like it was Lucifer himself. "You need medical attention." Smiling at the always formal tone Dean tried to shrug then winced at the effort.

"It's not so bad." The angel ignored him. Instead he took his hand away, making Dean grumble a bit under his breath, and crouched beside him. He started to reach out and then froze. Dean watched with fascination as what looked like anger flowed over his face.

"I cannot heal it." He said his lips pursing as he glared, "I am sorry."

"It's not your fault." Dean grumbled back feeling his face heat as Castiel's hand settled over the wound that he hadn't really noticed was so low on his anatomy. "If you wanna help you can get the stitches back in."

"Stitches?" Castiel questioned and Dean had a momentary panicking thought of the angel trying to do stitches and changed tactics.

"Maybe just a really big band aid." He muttered bracing himself to stand. His stomach rumbled once in annoyance but he was damn sure there was nothing left to give up. He got to his feet with more than a little bit of difficulty. When he almost toppled over Castiel's hand wrapped around his arm to steady him and sent pleasant waves of calm through him. He gave him a sheepish smile and righted himself but Castiel's arm didn't move. Dean frowned at him for a second then mentally shrugged it off. It felt nice. With Castiel's guiding hand he managed to make it out of the bathroom semi-upright. Truth be told if his pride was a few levels lower he would have asked the damn angel to carry him. As it was he was trying to be sneaky about leaning more of his weight, well all of his weight against the slightly smaller man. Castiel didn't say a word as he casually slid an arm around his waist to hold him upright.

His feet were practically dragging as Cas plopped him on the bed with as much effort as lifting a bag of feathers. Dean groaned weakly as he fell to the bed. It was getting really hard to remember why he shouldn't be sleeping. At least the room had stopped spinning.

"Dean you're hurt. How do I help?" Cracking an eye open he watched the angel circle the bed once looking tense. Blue eyes were roaming over his body and not in a good way. Not in the way Dean wanted. He closed his eyes and fought the emotions that rose with that thought. It wasn't right. It wasn't going to happen. He needed to throw all those thoughts right out of his head. Castiel was an _angel_ for Christ's sake. Freaking as pure as snow and he definitely did not need someone like Dean to taint that. If he'd known the whole sex thing would have led to this he would have let the bastard sit in that house all damn night. "Dean."

"There's bandages in my bag. Get a big one." He muttered not bothering to open his eyes. If the angel heard he didn't respond. Dean was content to sit rolling in his pain. At least when he couldn't see the man before him his thoughts weren't going down completely the wrong lane. When the bed dipped a bit closer than necessary he finally gave up and cracked an eye open to peer at the angel who was currently staring at what looked half of his first aid kit with confusion. Dean couldn't stop the smile that spread across his face.

"The two on the left should do fine Cas." Dean muttered and closed his own eyes before the cerulean gaze could make him squirm. He gave a shudder anyway as a rough fingers traced a pattern around the open wound. Castiel gave a gentle tug at the shirt to pull it further up and Dean raised his back off the bed to pull it all the way off with a pained hiss. He heard the rip of gauze and the crunch of paper before warm hands returned flattening the familiar feel of the bandage against his skin. He flinched when Cas pushed just a little too hard.

"I think it's done." Cas sounded so damn unsure. Sighing Dean opened his eyes and surveyed the damage. Dried blood still flaked around his sides, but the bandage looked sturdy enough. He gave a grunt of approval. When he turned to thank his new guardian angel, he found him six inches from his face. His heart just about popped out of his chest. Sucking in a breath he fought the urge to scramble to the other side of the bed.

"You need rest." Cas was frowning at him his head cocked to the side inching closer slowly. Dean felt his face blank and this time his pounding pulse had nothing to do with the man invading his personal space.

"No." He said it firmly sitting up and ignoring the flaming in his stomach. The rising panic was a great distraction from it. The bottle was remarkably close. The perfect distance if he could just…

Castiel wrapped long fingers around his wrist and squeezed. Dean fought the urge to pout.

"You haven't slept in days."

"You've been spying on me?!"

"You need to rest."

"I've been doing just fine."

"You're _hurt_."

"Damn it Cas I said I was-!"

"Alistair is dead." Dean froze as it felt like ice water had taken root in his veins. Castiel rushed ahead before Dean could come up with anything to say. "Alistair is dead Dean and he cannot hurt you anymore." Dean couldn't breathe, hell he couldn't even think. The only thing he was aware of was Cas's death grip on his wrist.

"I know that." He choked out fighting the memories that were currently swimming through his head. Castiel made a sound that sounded an awful lot like annoyance.

"I don't understand why you continue to allow him to torment you." He sounded genuinely confused and Dean fought the urge to scream. He wanted to shoot something, to tell Castiel to get the hell out. But the angel needed to understand _why_ this couldn't work.

"Because he wasn't the only monster down there." He whispered feeling his throat tighten. Cas stared at him for a moment and damn didn't he have an unnerving stare. The blue eyes could break down the worst of the worst. Dean firmly put himself in that category. He didn't make the decision to drop his eyes but he did. Castiel's grip on his arm was gone. He refused to admit he missed the touch.

"You still don't believe you deserved to be saved." He sounded exasperated. Dean couldn't stop the flinch the other man's palm cupped his face. "Dean you cannot keep blaming yourself." There was no confusion, not second thoughts just ….just understanding. That more than anything else broke him.

"It's all my fault Cas." He whispered hoarsely feeling the tears he didn't want to shed roll down his cheeks. God he was so damn tired.

"There would be not fault if I had been sooner." Castiel said softly his hand moving to Dean's shoulder and squeezing gently. Dean's head snapped up in shock.

"Cas…" The angel shook his head and gave small rare smile.

"Those at fault for this is infinite. You cannot carry the burden on your own shoulders Dean." He would not act like a chick. He would _not_.

"I don't want to close my eyes." He muttered feeling the shame as he admitted it. He was a coward and a fraud. The bed creaked as Castiel leaned closer resting his forehead against Dean's.

"I will be here." Cas assured him and Dean shuddered taking a deep breath. From this close he could smell the now familiar scent of leather and something that was all Castiel. It always reminded him of the moments just before a storm broke. Ozone and Earth. With a shudder he leaned into the Angel.

"Promise me." He whispered feeling raw. Castiel would leave eventually. Everyone he ever cared about always did.

"I promise." Castiel said in that gravelly voice that always sent chills down Dean's spine. Maybe he would leave him someday, maybe he'd break his heart just like his father, just like Sammy but at that moment Dean would have given anything to just have something.

So it was Dean who initiated the kiss this time, wrapping a hand behind the angel's neck as he drug him towards him. Not caring if this was wrong or right. Castiel tensed for no more than a second before melting into him. It reminded Dean a hell of a lot of his first time. Clumsy and inexperienced and somehow it was perfect. Castiel may have been inexperienced but his lips moved perfectly in synch with Dean's, almost like they were on the same wavelength. When Cas made a noise that sent a very well known feeling through Dean he smirked and tugged off that damn coat. The shirt came next though the damn tie got in the way. He took the angel down to the bed, he was so focused on the way his hands felt against Cas's bare skin that he forgot about the gaping wound on his own stomach.

With a hiss he froze hovering above the angel and panting in pain. Shit, this was going to be difficult. Cas was staring at him with wide eyes more than a little out of breath himself. The flush on his cheeks and the way he was staring at Dean made him very aware that there were currently only two pairs of jeans in the way of something he wanted very much. Swallowing he fought the urge to say fuck it and let himself bleed out. He was pretty god damn sure it would be a good death. Cas, the constant party kill made the decision for him.

"You're injured. We cannot do…this." He raised himself to his elbows giving him that intense stare. Dean was more than a little pleased that the angel sounded breathless and the flush was still on his cheeks.

"Yeah wouldn't want to give a subpar performance on the first go." Dean agreed pleased to see the confused look on the angels face. He grins leans down gingerly and plants another kiss on the angel, with no less emotion than the last. Finally with a sigh he pulled away and rolled to the side. With a big of a sigh he realizes the damn room is as cold as freaking ice. Grumbling Dean slid his jeans off carefully, and then debated on losing the socks before deciding he didn't want popsicle toes in the morning. Climbing under the covers he frowned at the Angel still sitting next to him staring at the ceiling like it held the secrets of the universe.

"Cas?" Dean frowned trying not to get his hopes up.

"Hmm." Licking his lips Dean tried not to feel like a fool.

"Will you really stay?" Jesus he sounded like a freaking five year old. Cas hesitated for a moment his eyes raking over Dean. After what seemed like a lifetime Dean watched with a smile as the angel slowly kicked off his boots and crawled into bed with him. They sat together side by side bringing a whole new meaning to awkward. Finally Dean gave up trying to make this normal and turns to his side for some much needed rest. Just as he's about to drift off into the land of sugar plums fairies and soul destroying demons he feels the bed creak and all of a sudden there is hot bare flesh pressed against his back. The sigh he lets out is not a conscious decision nor was the way he snuggled backwards despite the pain in his stomach. Cas's breath at the back of his neck raising goose bumps that make him really want to go kill that Ghoul just one more time.

"Dean?" Cas's voice is soft and questioning and Dean gives him a hum in response. Sleep is fast approaching. "You never said how you felt about Bert and Ernie."

Despite the desperate need for sleep that brings a startled a laugh out of Dean.

"I think I'm finally starting to get them Cas."

As he drifted off to the land of Maeve with a smile on his face, for the first time in months Dean didn't feel quite so terrified of tomorrow.


End file.
